UPDATE: Stephanie tragically died on the morning of February 4, 2015. She is survived by two daughters and leaves behind a legacy of hope and resilience. Read more about here life here and please consider donating to the fund established in her memory here.

Last night, I was witness to an incredible moment. And this photo is much more than a party picture.

Stephanie Lee is battling stage-four colon cancer. Her story has been documented twicein the pages of Esquire, but here's the thumbnail biography: She lives on the Gulf Coast of Mississippi and nearly a decade ago, over the course of a year, the grandparents who raised her died in a car crash and her husband was killed in Iraq. Then she lost everything in Katrina. Tom Junod told her story of survival in a 2005 Esquire piece, "Mississippi Goddamn." Last May, via Facebook, she told Junod's editor, Mark Warren, about her cancer diagnosis. Esquire had recently profiled a mathematician who runs Mount Sinai's Institute for Genomics and Multiscale Biology — a genius using supercomputed data to, as CBS News later described it, "find personalized cures for disease — mapping a patient's genetic code, then collecting and analyzing massive amounts of biological and clinical data." Warren and Junod teamed up to introduce Stephanie to the mathematician and the results, detailed in their piece "Patient Zero," might just change the way we treat cancers.

Cut to last night in Austin, Texas. As a guest of honoree Ben Harper, Stephanie was in town for Nobelity's star-studded Feed the Peace gala. The event is a who's who of Texas musicians, actors, authors, and philanthropists — from billionaire hair care and tequila giant John Paul DeJoria to the cast of Friday Night Lights and Revolution. And for my money, Stephanie was the biggest, brightest, most jubilant star in the room. You'd never know she'd had a chemo treatment two days earlier. Never. This woman who's lost so much, who's fought so hard, was absolutely radiant. And full of hope. All this despite the fact that she's due for another surgery (her fifth) in just a few weeks. Mark introduced me to Stephanie early in the night. And then, as if right on cue, Lance Armstrong — who wasn't to my knowledge supposed to be there — appeared. I began to tell Lance the story of this incredible woman sitting a few tables away. He stopped me and said, "I've read her story. Where is she?" I took him to Stephanie's table. I stood over her and said, "This is Lance..." and before I could get out the "Armstrong" she began shrieking (loudly) and shaking (hard). She shook and shrieked, shrieked and shook. For a minute, easy. Maybe two. The only words she could get out were "I have to have a picture." In the photos, she's still visibly shaking. They didn't exchange many words. Lance told her he knew her story. He applauded her fight. She just shrieked and shook. And she hugged him. And thanked him. And when I took the photo and she finally regained composure, they fist-bumped goodbye.

Lance meant something special to her, she told me afterward. He meant survival. "The other stuff doesn't matter," she said. "He's human." And I can't help but think she's right. The trash that gets talked on the sports pages and social media is just that, trash talk. If you saw what I saw last night, you just saw two fighters. One is fighting for everything she has, fighting to be alive for her kid's high school graduation. The other won the big battle but right now looks like he lost the war. But I'm not sure he has. This is not a photo of a man disgraced. The hope he gave Stephanie last night, just by being there, just by taking a photo, was very clearly what she needed as she marches on, toward surgery, more chemo, and maybe the experimental treatment that changes the way we treat cancers. She's Patient Zero. She's a superhero who had an incredible moment with another superhero — a moment so transcendent they didn't have to have a real conversation. Just to bear witness was exhilarating. Because this is reality: We could all be waging Stephanie Lee's battle one day. She could be your mother. She could be your sister. And last night, she found hope — and happiness — in the embrace of a stranger. It was magic. This photo isn't a party picture.